


Only Me

by rhysiana



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (but he's aware of it), Canon-Typical Violence, Everyone on this show needs so much therapy, Injury, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Possessive Stiles Stilinski, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-09-06 11:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16831801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysiana/pseuds/rhysiana
Summary: It's funny how easy it is to talk to Derek when he's unconscious... In which Stiles admits to his possessive nature, and it turns out Derek maybe doesn't mind that much.





	Only Me

**Author's Note:**

> Moving Tumblr ficlets over for posterity. This one was in answer to the prompt: "okay but dude those angst prompts! i can totally see number 4 with sterek but with stiles saying it with this underlying feeling that he doesn't deserve derek? like he's being selfish in wanting to keep him for himself and if he saw anyone else look at derek like that he'd defo kill them for feeling that way about such a good guy."
> 
> Angst prompt 4. “I will kill anyone who looks at you the way I look at you.”

Derek had nearly gotten killed. Again. Just stepped in front of the stupid monster of the week and let it rip right into him without a single thought for how anyone else—screw it, for how _Stiles_ might feel about such a “selfless” action. Stiles might have flipped out about it, just a little, once they’d managed to get him back to the loft. Which was why he was now the only one here with Derek, having accused Scott and Isaac and Cora (his own sister!) of not taking things seriously enough. Goddamn werewolves and their cavalier attitude toward personal safety anyway.

Stiles, though. Stiles knew. How fragile life was. He thought about it constantly, lived with it so perpetually it’d sunk into the deepest recesses of his mind, into his bones, and he did _not_ need it brought to the forefront of his attention by self-sacrificial werewolves with a death wish and a martyr complex.

He dragged a chair over next to Derek’s bed and sat there alternating between bouncing his leg and playing with the magazine release on the pistol Argent had finally persuaded his dad it really was necessary all the squishy humans carry on these endeavors. _Snick_ , release, _smack_ , reseat it. Over and over. If Argent were here, he’d definitely get smacked upside the head for it. Or his dad. He set it on Derek’s nightstand, still in easy reach, and twisted his fingers around each other instead.

Derek continued to breathe, though his brows were slightly furrowed in pain, even in his sleep. Or unconsciousness. Whatever this was.

“You shouldn’t do shit like that for me, you know,” Stiles told him. “If you were awake, I’d give you some bullshit about how I can take care of myself, which _isn’t_ a lie, but the truth is… the truth is I don’t deserve it. You know everything I did. You _know_. And you still act like you’re the one with something to make up for? Dude, you didn’t even know. None of that was your fault.”

He glared pointedly at Derek, who didn’t even twitch. “And don’t you tell me it wasn’t my fault either. I was there while the nogitsune did… everything. I was there. I felt it. I know you think it wasn’t me, but I’m really not so sure of that, sometimes. I’m not a good person, not like you. I mean, I know you’re an asshole, but at your core? You’re a good person. I don’t think I am.

“Here’s a stupid thing. You know how I know I’m not a good person? Because I see people flirt with you, and instead of being happy for you and running a discreet background check on your behalf, I think ‘I will kill anyone who looks at you the way I look at you.’ Which would be an awful thing to think even if you did like me, let alone…” He trailed off and waved an exhausted hand between the two of them, indicating the _whatever_ of their relationship.

“Like, I want you to be happy. As happy as you absolutely deserve to be. But I’m selfish enough to want to be the one to do it. Only me. And I know how bad that sounds. I don’t think this says good things about me, Derek, I really don’t. Do you think there are any therapists who know about this shit who don’t, you know, also want to secretly murder all of us? We should really look into that. We could get a group rate.”

He flopped back in the chair and rubbed his hands over his face. “Jesus. I need sleep.” He considered falling asleep in the chair very seriously, but the couch called to him from across the room with seductive promises of actually lying in a prone position.

He heaved himself to his feet and leaned over Derek to pull the blanket back to check the progress of his healing. “Lookin’ good, big guy,” he sighed. “You should be all fixed up by tomorrow.”

Derek grabbed his wrist before he could pull the blanket back into place. Stiles froze, eyes wide, and found Derek awake and looking directly at him.

“Maybe I don’t want anyone else to look at me the way you do either,” Derek rasped.

Very carefully with his free hand, Stiles reached down and pinched himself on the thigh. Hard. Yup, okay, actually awake then.

“Yeah?” he ventured.

Derek yanked at his wrist until he fell into the bed and wrapped an arm firmly around him. His breath deepened back into sleep almost immediately.

Stiles let a wave of fierce protectiveness wash over him as he closed his own eyes. “Well, all right then.”


End file.
